Hope Springs Eternal: Web of Freedom
by VioletK
Summary: When the Red Room Academy rises from the ashes, Natasha vows to bring it down once and for all. But along with it comes the ghost of her best friend, the one she thought for dead, the one the Academy was so keen to hide and is now in desperate need of her help. But why did they want to keep her hidden in the first place? Natasha/OC friendship.
1. Echoes of the Past

**S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, New York, November 15th 2009**

Natasha stared at all the evidence spread out in front of her on the coffee table. Newspaper articles, photos, police reports, bullets and scrap metal seemed to stare at her, waiting for her to admit what she didn't want too. Off to her right, a bulletin board was hung on the wall, a map of Russia occupying most of its space, while red pins were placed on various cities on it. The file closest to her was open and the photo of yet another dead businessman was on display, mocking her.

She let out a sigh and buried her face in her hands. Things were not turning out the way she wanted them to. Even though there seemed to be no connection to the events mentioned in the articles, to Natasha's trained eyes they told the story of her old home, the home she thought she had left behind, but now it seemed like it was coming on stronger than before. She knew what needed to be done, but she would have to inform her superiors first. Heck, she hadn't even told her partner yet. And she planned not to; it was something that she needed to do alone. She stood up from the white couch in her room and headed towards the Director's office.

She walked down endless corridors, passed through countless doors and passed by many agents on her way. When she finally reached the Director's office she paused just outside the door. She took a deep breath and knocked two times, waiting for what seemed like eternity.

''Enter'', a deep voice finally replied from the other sided and Natasha stepped inside the vast office. Director Fury looked up from some papers on his desk when the door was pulled shut. ''Agent Romanoff, what do you want?''

Natasha went straight to the point. ''I need permission to go on a solo mission, sir.''

Fury stared at her with his one good eye. He let his papers down and stood up. ''And why would that be?''

She took a deep breath. ''Over the past four months I have been gathering evidence that point out that the Red Room Academy is still running under a new name, 2R. I looked between the lines of some accidents and deaths in Russia and found that they look a lot like Red Room cases. I also searched in Russian orphanages' files and found many missing reports on girls between the ages 5-7. I need to look further into the case, sir.'' She stared at him intently, not moving a muscle, waiting for his response.

He considered the information he had just been given, walking in front of his desk. After a few moments he stared back at her. ''If I told you to take three agents with you, what would you say?'', he asked.

''Let me remind you, sir, that when I first came in for training I took out five of your agents in under thirty seconds. We're talking about a number of at least sixty girls here, sir. I wouldn't want to risk the lives of any fellow agents on this, if, of course, I am right.'' And inside her, she was praying she was wrong, she was praying that all of it was just a sick coincidence, that her mind was just overreacting.

''You don't even want to take agent Barton for back-up?'', he pressed on.

Natasha noticed her hands balling up into fists. She wouldn't risk losing her one good ally to her old family. ''No one, sir. Believe me, it's for the best.''

Their staring contest seemed to go on forever until Fury spoke again. ''You leave in three days. Inform anyone you think should be informed and gear up. I guess you'd like this mission to stay off the books?''

She nodded. ''Until it's done, yes. I want it to be an absolute secret. Good evening, Director.'' She turned on her heel to leave the room, but her boss's voice stopped her just before she could turn the doorknob.

''Agent Romanoff?''. She stayed still, waiting for what he would say next. ''You think, now that you left, that the Red Room is targeting you?''

Natasha closed her eyes. She had dreaded this moment. Did she really believe it? Was she afraid? But she had promised that she would be honest with herself. ''Yes.'' And with that she left the office.

…

On her last day in the Headquarters, Natasha was packing anything that she would need. That included clothes, toiletries and guns. She needed a duffle only for her coats. A big suitcase was filled with all her gear; her Widow's Bite, her guns with dozens of clips to change and com devices to communicate with the base.

She had mentioned her mission to two people: Director Fury and her handler, agent Coulson. To the first because she needed his permission to leave in the first place, and to the second because he would arrange her transportation with the outmost secrecy. She felt really guilty for not telling Clint about this mission, but she knew that if she told him he would like to come, and she couldn't have that. This was something she needed to do alone.

She had thought that the Red Room was brought to the ground after she left. But it seemed like it was a great asset to the KGB, too precious to get rid of. So they went on, taking young girls that they thought wouldn't be missed and turning them to master assassins. Sometimes taking out their parents themselves to take them. Oh, they had destroyed so many lives, they had brainwashed so many girls, they had killed so many people... Natasha had lost everything because of them, not just her home and her life, but her best friend, as well…

Just as she was ready to get to bed there was a knock on her door. Confused, she went to open it, seeing a junior agent on the threshold. ''Letter for agent Romanoff''. He handed her an envelope and left running down the corridor.

Natasha closed the door and went to sit on the bed, studying the envelope. It was just an ordinary stationary envelope, addressed to one Natalia Romanova and sent to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secure address. The information on the back was written in Russian. Curiosity peaked, she ripped open the envelope and took out its contents: a small card advertising a cafeteria in Moscow. Natasha's eyebrows shot up in surprise. What the hell was that all about? But then she turned the card over.

Her eyes widened in shock. Then narrowed in disbelief. But then horror filled her face at the realization of what exactly she was seeing. The small card left her hands and dropped on the floor, the back facing Natasha. She took one last look at it and shot out of the door like a bullet; running down the corridor and rapping with her fist on a metal door at the end of it.

Before long Clint Barton opened the door, looking at her through narrowed eyes due to the lighting in the corridor. ''Jeez, Nat, do you know what time is it?'' But then his fury was replaced with concern as he took another look at his partner. She was shaking badly and seemed to be on the verge of tears. He had never seen her like that, so emotionally vulnerable. ''Nat, are you alright?''

She pulled at his hands. ''Come with me.'' She led him towards the opposite direction she had been running and pushed him inside her bedroom. He took in the assortment of bags and gear spread around the room. He also noticed Natasha looking at the floor like it would open up at any second and they would drop down. Looking at the direction she was looking, he noticed the small card lying on the floor.

Clint picked up the card and stared at the beautiful blue butterfly that was drawn on it.


	2. Calling Out

**Hello, everyone and welcome to my new story! I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited this story! This is everything a writer needs. I hope you like this chapter, as well! The strange phrases scattered in the chapter are written in Russian, so if I didn't get something right, blame it on Google Translate, from which the translation from English originated. **

**Special thanks to my beta, Wings of Indigo, for helping with this story! **

* * *

**Solitary Confinement Level, 2R Facilities, somewhere in Northern Russia, October 16****th**** 2009**

She had thought that even if she tried to do it, she wouldn't feel a thing. But then she tried it.

Slowly, headphones on, she lifted herself from the bed and started trying some of the moves she thought she knew. Surprisingly to her, they worked. Quicker this time, she spread her hands around her and moved her legs across the polished white floor, the song blearing in her ears. She did leaps in the air, elegant turns and poses that would make a real dancer jealous. As _The Show Must Go On_ played on she danced on, ignoring the fact that she should be waiting for her evaluation, ignoring the fact that she was locked in a crazily white room like the prisoner she was all those years. The only thing positive about the evaluation was that there was hope that she would finally get out, hope that she would be able to reunite with _her_, hope that she would get away.

Hope. Like her name. Over the past years it had seemed so ironic that she had stopped using it, settling instead for a smaller form of it. Hope. The only thing she could do since the day she was dragged in that hellhole. Since the day of the car crash, the one that took her parent's lives. Since the day that woman dragged he out of the inferno seconds before it exploded and saved her life, so that she would take other people's lives. Since her life changed forever.

Not that everything was bad at first. She even had a friend during her first three years in the Academy. And they supported each other. They helped hope stay alive for both of them. But after three years they just had to shatter everything good that was left for them…

As she struck her final pose she came face-to-face with a woman, who had silently crept into the room while the occupant danced on. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes, which were now staring at the frozen girl intently.

''Yelena'', she greeted her, removing the headphones hastily from her ears and stopping the music.

The blonde smiled and nodded. ''Digital storage devices are forbidden within the facility. I'd like to know where you found it.''

It was the girl's turn to smile. ''Sometimes being the best of the best has its privileges. You wouldn't know now, would you?''

Yelena visibly tensed. She went to snatch the small device from the girl's hands, but she caught Yelena's hand, twisted it and tackled her to the ground. She kept her hand twisted and Yelena screeched in pain.

The girl bent over close to Yelena's ear. ''Friendly reminder.'' She let go and Yelena scrambled to her feet.

''If I could kill you, you'd be dead five years ago'', Yelena growled.

''And you'd be a rotting corpse in a mass grave with a bullet in your head'', the girl replied coldly, falling on the bed and resting on her back. ''What are you doing here, anyway? I'm not authorized to visits.''

''I came to tell you your friend's latest news''. She could hear the smirk in Yelena's voice.

Her blood ran cold. ''Чей?''

Yelena chuckled. ''Не играть немой. It's always been her, right? Your precious Natalia, your best friend. The _traitor_. You were trained to be spiders together. But you were always the best. Better than her, better than anyone. And then, _puff_, you vanished. No more training, no more playing best recruit. You passed the role to dear old Natalia to show us who's boss.''

She turned her back to Yelena, facing the wall. ''She betrayed us to the Americans. She shut down the base and let us run away with no home. She became an enemy agent, she's fighting us. How does it feel now, huh? Betrayed much? Scared that she might kill you? Angry?'' Yelena had by now reached the bed and was leaning above her ear. ''_Alone?_''

Before she could even punch her in the face the door of the cell was swung open and in came a squad of three people, two men with riffles and a woman dressed in a bright red dress and matching heels. They called her the ''Scarlet Iron Lady'' behind her back because of her attitude and place as the only woman in the Academy's Council. All the girls feared her and all of them tried not to get on her bad side. There had been speculation that the unexpected murders that happened in the middle of the night were her work, all those girls marked as her enemies. And it was common knowledge that she hadn't gotten her biggest enemy yet, and that drove her mad. That enemy could not be any other than Natalia.

The girls stood right next to each other in attention, as they had learnt over years of training under the woman. ''Belova, out!'', she shouted, pointing towards the door. Yelena bowed her head and started walking to the exit. Before she got out she turned and faced the girl once more.

''What did they find in you, anyway? Why are you locked in here letting Romanova take all the glory?'' At that moment the girl lunched at Yelena, but the guards held her back and the blonde danced out of the room, smiling.

''Gunslyakova, behave yourself!'', the woman commanded. With all her willpower, the girl stopped struggling in the guards' iron grip and stared at the square envelope in the woman's hands. Noticing this, the woman smiled. ''Congratulations. You have been awarded the ultimate title of the Black Widow. You will be placed in Moscow in three days.''

The girl stared at her in disbelief. ''I-I am honored, ma'am, but I thought that title belonged to Na- agent Romanova'', she caught herself before she said the name; she was in a delicate place, hanging from a single thread. Attachment meant cancelation.

A vein pulsed on the woman's forehead. ''Romanova turned her back on the organization that made her what she is today. She may use that title, but she is not authorized to. You, on the other hand, have the pride to call yourself 'Black Widow'. We will discuss your… restrictions tomorrow morning. Have a nice day, Miss Gunslyakova.'' She nodded to the guards and they let her go, proceeding to follow the woman outside.

''Wait!'' The Iron Lady turned her head sharply around, black hair fanning out behind her. ''While I'm out, will I be able to-?'' But she stopped asking when she saw the growing smile on the woman's face.

''I have an idea for that, we'll discuss it tomorrow morning.'' And with that the group disappeared out of the door. The characteristic metallic clicks indicated that she was, once more, sealed in.

She should have been happy. Happy that she would taste the air of freedom once again, that the sun would touch her face and that she would walk on solid concrete again. She should be feeling dizzy from relief that she wouldn't die a horrible gruesome death in the hands of the people who stole her life.

Instead, her mind raced to the things she had to do to get that title. Instead, her mind projected the face of the businessman she had to kill as her evaluation target. She saw the empty brown eyes stare up at her, seemingly congratulating her. ''Well done, I'm your best kill yet. Time to add me to the list.''

Instead, her mind showed her all her kills. Because he wasn't the only one. He was just the last one in a long line. There were powerful women before him. And drug dealers. And even innocent civilians to cover for messed up missions. In that place it was kill or die. For her it was different. For her it was carry out or be locked up for four months. Which, for her, was worse than dying. At least dying would be quick. At least it would rid her from the endless sessions with the white walls.

Instead, memories of all her time imprisoned resurfaced. All the time staring at the white walls. All the while being tortured. All the while being experimented on. All the while she had to take all of the horrible things they did to her without protesting. And the one time she defied orders things changed. Yes, she was trapped in her white walls again. Yes, the experiments were still conducted. But she was training again, training in many things, training to infiltrate and kill. Her only break was the thing that made her even more of a monster than she already was.

Instead, she crawled under her white blankets and let the tears slide down her cheeks and damp the blank pillow.

''Наталья, мне очень жаль.''

…

**Маленький ****царь**** Café, Moscow, Russia, October 20****th**** 2009**

With one last black line she finished her small masterpiece.

She had been sitting for two hours in a small corner café in Moscow called ''Little Tsar'', two blocks away from her brand new apartment, in which she didn't even want to step inside yet. Instead, she had found this small but overcrowded café and had occupied herself with drawing her symbol on the back of a card advertising the place. When she was satisfied with the result, she went inside, welcoming the wave of heat that hit her upon entering. She made her way towards the bar, were a rather handsome man was wiping glasses dry.

''Hey, would you do me a favor?'', she asked him, wearing her best smile, perfectly aware that she was being watched. He smiled back. ''Would you send this somewhere for me?'' She grabbed a napkin and hid the card underneath, sliding it over to him.

He looked at her, puzzled. ''Can't you do it yourself, miss?''

Her smile didn't even quiver. Instead, it grew a bit wider. ''Mama is really strict at home. She won't let me contact my friend, she will check my mail every day. Could you do it for me instead?''

He considered it for a moment, but her dazzling smile had him the moment she had asked. He leaned closer over the bar. ''Alright, gorgeous. Where to?''

She clapped her hands and took a pen from her pocket, scribbling down the secure address she had taken from the 2R files. It wasn't hard to obtain; it was hard to get away with. To any distant watchers it would seem like she was writing down her phone. She pushed it towards him. ''There. No need to write the address on the outside; she knows it's me.'' She then picked up her stuff and got up to leave.

''Hey, don't I get your name?'', he shouted before she could make it outside.

She turned around again. ''No.'' She was wearing a teasing grin now, one that was rewarded by the bartender's confused look.

As she made her way towards her apartment she prayed that the envelope would reach her without anyone intercepting it. But more than that, she prayed that the envelope would gain her an ally, if not win her her best friend back.

Either way, it was be found or die.


	3. The Story of the Widows

**New chapter, everyone! Just so that we are clear: This story is set a short while after the events of Iron Man (frequent mentions of Tony Stark and his alter ego will be present) and is a Natasha/OC friendship, so it is not a slash story. Reviews are much appreciated! **

**Special thanks to my beta, Wings of Indigo, for helping with this story!**

* * *

**S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, New York, November 17****th**** 2009**

Natasha wrapped her cold fingers around the hot cup, trying to warm them a bit, but it seemed impossible. She was sitting on the bed, back on the wall and knees close to her chest, while Clint was sitting facing her, with one leg dangling off the bed while holding a cup of his own.

''So let me get this straight. You came from a sub-division of KGB specializing in producing physically and psychologically enhanced master assassins.'' Natasha nodded. ''Which you burned down while escaping.'' Another nod. ''And now you find out it is still operating even though you 'closed it down'. ''

''_Might _still be operating'', Natasha corrected him.

''Knowing you, it's operating'', Clint commented. ''So, your mission was to go and bring it down once and for all.''

''That's about right'', she concluded.

''And why are you telling me this now?''

Natasha sighed and took a comforting sip of her chocolate. She could do with something stronger, but hot chocolate was the best they could find in the middle of the night. ''I wanted it to be kept a secret so that it could be done as quietly as possible. Besides, I don't feel good talking about that place. Too many bad things happened there.''

''They took away your life and made you a killer. That's enough for me'', Clint said quietly. He pointed to the card that was now placed right between them as if it was dynamite that would explode at any second. ''And what's with the butterfly?''

Natasha visibly tensed. ''In the academy I was considered the best recruit. But I wasn't always. There was this one girl that was the best there was. She could do anything from handling the academy's whole arsenal to taking out all of her instructors in hand-to-hand combat with her eyes closed. And that was at the age of 9. She was brought in when she was five, while I was six. And she grew… attached to me.''

''Like an enemy?''

''Like a best friend''. Clint noticed that Natasha was trying hard not to smile at the memory. ''There was a strict no-attachments policy in there, and somehow breaking that one rule made us keep going, become the best and the strongest. Then they started administering the super soldier serum.''

''The what? _The _super soldier serum? The one used on Captain America?''

''A variant. Everyone expected that after she had taken the serum she would become even stronger, even faster and even better than before. She was to graduate first ahead of me. She would have become the Black Widow, not me. But things didn't turn out that well.''

''What happened?''

She inhaled sharply. ''As far as I know, the formulas of drugs they gave her had a strange reaction in her body, maybe reacting to a gene in it, I don't know. But it had strange effects on her body. Not always visible. They would often keep her in the infirmary because she complained she was in great pain. But sometimes they would be visible. I remember this one time when she turned up in training with long red curly hair like mine.''

''How's that possible?'', Clint wondered.

Natasha shrugged. ''It's a mystery. Next day she didn't show up, nor the day after that. After a week they announced she was dead. They said it was due to side effects of the serum.''

Clint didn't know what to say. He placed a comforting hand on Natasha's shoulder and she covered it with her own. ''What was her name?''

''Nadezhda. Nadezhda Gunslyakova.'' She inhaled sharply. ''Another thing I remember about her is that she was afraid of spiders.''

Clint stared at her blankly. ''Not exactly the thing I would remember about my dead best friend.''

''But that was the most ironic thing of all. We were trained to be spiders and there she was, the best spider afraid of herself. Nadia-that's what we were calling her, Nadia-, she liked butterflies, blue ones, to be exact. She believed that butterflies were the freest creatures in the world, flying around, not caring about anything. And that's what she was trying to achieve. She was trying to become just that, her very own butterfly, believing that she would escape on butterfly wings.''

It wasn't hard for Clint to put two and two together. He pointed at the card. ''That was her? She sent that? She's alive?''

Suddenly Natasha grabbed Clint by the hand and looked at him directly in the eyes, green in blue. ''I'm not sure, I mean I am the only one who knew about this, who else could it be? Please, Clint, please tell me this is happening and that I am not hallucinating! Please tell me this is making sense to you! It's enough to have the nightmares every night-''

''You've been having nightmares?''

Her eyes widened when she realized she had said that. She released his hand at once. ''I'm positive it is her. And she is calling out to me.''

''Then what is this? A threat, a warning?''

She didn't answer for a while. ''A cry for help.''

…

Director Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. was sitting in his desk late at night, going through the usual paperwork. Lately, and after finally sorting out the mess at Stark Industries, he was trying to have plans for a new mission approved by the World Security Council, something that might help them discover the true potential of an object hidden deep within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s vaults. The phrase ''Mission: Frostbite'' was plastered on a folder with big black letters, ready to be sent to the Council's members. If he could actually get them to agree, then the future of the Avengers Initiative was wide and clear before him and he could finally set it in motion.

Without warning the door was thrown open and Natasha and Clint stormed inside, determined expressions on both of their faces. Fury shot up from his chair.

''What the hell is going on?'', he asked, rather pissed.

''Sir, I'd like agent Barton to accompany me on the mission'', Natasha stated in a breath.

Fury stared at her with rage burning in his eye. ''Romanoff, what you're asking is nuts. We are one day before the mission, you personally asked for secrecy and solitude for the safety of the agents, what changed now?''

Clint could almost hear the gears turning in Natasha's head. Whatever the cost, she didn't want Fury knowing about Nadia. ''I considered it again. Maybe some back-up wouldn't be bad after all.''

Fury pointed an accusing finger at her. ''Romanoff-''

''Sir, you cannot pull me out of this. I have to go with her'', Clint stepped in then.

The Director was now amused. ''And why is that, Barton?''

Now it was Clint's turn to think hard. ''We are your best agents, both with their different skillset that if combined always gives the best results. If you want this organization to be brought down, you need both of us.''

A staring contest ensued between the assassins and their boss. The pair had a hard time keeping still.

Fury sat down on his desk and focused his attention on his computer's monitor, seemingly indifferent. ''Inform Coulson and tell him to make arrangements for one more. And no more surprises'', he said, and they could feel the conversation was over. Natasha wasn't sure about that last part, but she didn't make a move to say more. They hurried out of the door, leaving their boss with his thoughts.

Fury followed them with his eye until they were gone. At once he grabbed his phone and dialed a number, tapping his finger impatiently on the desk as he waited for someone to pick it up.

''Track down Romanoff and Barton tomorrow and don't leave them out of your sight. I want to know what they're doing 24/7.'' And with that he hung up, hitting the phone on its base with ferocity. He had a bad feeling about this mission, and especially about what Romanoff was planning.

…

''So, where do we start?'', Clint asked as he threw clothes messily into a huge suitcase.

Natasha was sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching him the whole time and thinking how unorganized men were. ''Moscow. She sent me our meeting address''. In her hand she was still holding the small card with the drawing on it.

''And what will you do?''

''Talk. We have a lot to talk about with Nadia.''

Clint suddenly threw a couple of blouses in the suitcase with more force than before and turned to Natasha. ''Why do you need me?''

She was totally taken aback. ''What do you mean?''

''Three days ago you wanted to go on the mission alone, and suddenly your best friend appeared and you do whatever's possible to bring me along, why?''

''W-we are partners, right?'', she stammered.

''Yeah, we were partners three days ago, and you didn't seem keen even to share with me what you found. Why now?'' She wouldn't meet his penetrating gaze, her eyes instead fixed on the delicate wings of the butterfly. ''Tasha?''

She just couldn't resist the way he whispered her name, not ever. She focused her green eyes on his own blue ones. ''You want to bring her in, don't you?''

Natasha slowly lifted herself off the bed and came face-to-face with Clint. They were so close their noses were almost touching. ''You were sent out to kill me and you didn't. You saw something in me that I didn't, and they didn't, too. Fury expects me to kill all of them, to neutralize the threat. But if I stroll in here with a super assassin better than myself she will be killed on the spot. My judgment might be clouded because Nadia was-'', she caught herself and swallowed once, ''_is_ my friend, but you can see it. You can see if she is worth saving as I was. You can convince them that she needs to be alive, that she is no threat''. Her voice was just above a whisper. ''She is worth saving, Clint.''

Clint placed his hand on her cheek and it took her whole willpower not to close her eyes and lean on it. ''Everyone's worth saving, Tasha. When I got you here everyone thought you weren't, and look at you now.''

''Because you convinced them that I should be given a second chance.''

''And you didn't blow that chance'', he whispered.

Natasha blinked and took two steps back, breaking the heavy tension. ''Be ready at 0500'', she said and rushed out of the room.

She didn't like how emotional she had gotten today. She had let her barriers drop and her emotions slip away from her control. What had almost happened in there… She shook her head. She was the Black Widow. She never let emotion mix up with her work, it was like the law to her. Because if she let anyone close she would regret it for the rest of her life.

Without a second glance behind her she started walking towards her quarters.


	4. Let There Be Fire

**This chapter could have been uploaded earlier, but due to an unfortunate event that occurred this week I postponed the updating of the story till today, hope you guys don't mind! To make your life easier, translation for the Russian used in this chapter is included at the bottom of the page! Don't forget to leave your feedback!**

**Special thanks to my beta, Wings of Indigo, for helping with this story!**

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**2R Secure Apartment, Moscow, Russia, November 18****th**** 2009**

_Fire. Everything was engulfed in flames. The heat clung on the skin like a virus, unlike the freezing breezes of the outside world. Insulated inside the iron walls of the facility, the girls were falling on the floor, suffocated, next to the shot-down corpses lying in ever-growing pools of blood._

_As Nadia struggled against her captors' grips on her arms, hands and feet tied together with tight suckles, she stared down at the girls, half of them she knew, the other half unknown. The familiar faces were like negatives in her mind, blurred images in her memory, forgotten after years staring at white walls. The Scarlet Iron Lady walked with a brisk pace in front of the group, as they dragged her away, towards a big iron box, big enough to fit a person. At that point her struggles reached their peak and the strong men had a hard time keeping their hands on her._

_Out of the corner of her eye Nadia noticed a flash of red on the half balcony, a flick of scarlet curls in the eternal orange of the flames. And then she knew who had declared war on the facility, taking out almost all of the organization's members._

''_Natalia! Natalia! Nat-'', she screamed, desperate to be heard over the deafening crackling of the flames, but her screams were muffled by the guard's hand flying over her mouth. She bit hard into it and he let her go, bellowing in pain. She stumbled on her knees, landing in one of the blood pools on the floor. ''Natalia, help!''_

_The next thing to stop her was the punch that landed on her face, courtesy of the Iron Lady. She fell head-first on the floor, body now completely covered in the dark red liquid, dizzy beyond belief. ''Put her in there and finish this! We have to move!'' The guard picked up Nadia's limp body and threw her like a rag doll in the box with enough force to knock the air out of her lungs. She could feel herself slipping from consciousness, slowly and steadily, trickles of blood running down her spine and her hair plastered on her face, the scarlet liquid dripping off of it._

_Before her eyes flattered shut she saw a figure appearing on the balcony, red curls flowing on her shoulders. Natalia raised her gun, pointed straight towards Nadia. The gunshot echoed through the burning building, and the gut-twitching scream bounced against the walls, coming back magnified in her ears-_

Nadia woke up with a start gasping for air, hair sticking on her face drenched in sweat. She had thrown all the covers off the bed during her nightmare and the thin nightgown she wore did little to block off the cold. She gulped in air greedily, her eyes searching nothing in particular in the dark room. Slowly, and after getting her breathing under control, she stood up and picked up the covers, making the bed again. In no mood to fall asleep again in fear of the nightmare returning, the assassin headed towards her bathroom and threw the gown she wore on the floor, entering the small corner shower.

She let the scorching water drip on her body, at first setting her on edge but then relaxing her stiff muscles. She just crouched down on the tiled bottom of the shower and didn't even bother to turn down the temperature. That nightmare haunted her every night since the day she was moved to the new facility. The one of only five survivors, retreating in the shadows. Back then, in the commotion and flames, she had tried to escape, incorporating her skills and unique abilities to evade her captors. And she had almost reached the double doors, she had almost tasted the sweet air of freedom, but she was pulled back again, her try a little out of sync…

She shook her head. No, she wouldn't dwell upon that. What she needed was to hold on to hope, what she's been doing for the past month. The letter was sent, the watchers were thrown off the scent and all she could do now was wait. Wait for Natalia to find her or wait for her next mission.

As a sleeper agent she was positioned somewhere in the world, in this case Moscow, undercover with a fake identity (her newly printed ID identified her as Alexandra Vonlyakova) and living a normal life like any other person until her orders arrived and she was briefed on her next mission. Whether it was a robbery, espionage, murder or any other, she didn't get to choose not to do it. Even if she was 2R's most prized possession, refusing to complete a mission equaled with death. The only one time someone defied orders resulted in the wiping out of almost all the assassins in training and the relocation of the facility.

Taking a deep breath, Nadia shut down the flow of the water and exited the shower, drying herself rather hastily and returning to her bedroom. This wasn't helping her at all. The confinement of her apartment was as unbearable as being locked in four white walls all on her own. She had to escape the silence. After blow-drying her hair, she opened her wardrobe's doors and picked up what to wear. She settled for a pair of black skin-tight jeans, an electric blue sleeveless top and matching heels. Before she left out of the door she threw on a black long parka with brown fur around the hood, a pair of electric blue gloves and a long scarf of the same color and made sure she had a small gun on the back of her jeans. Then she was out in the night, in the dimly lit streets of Moscow.

The pavement was covered in a thick layer of snow even this early in the year, a trap for any not-prepared pedestrians. Even then light snow was falling from the sky, coating Nadia's eyelashes as she carefully walked down the street. Apart from the occasional car, nothing stirred in the night, and the lights cast from behind the blinds on the windows did nothing to help her course through the dark. In the heavy silence she made her way towards a small bar she had discovered a few days ago, with its name, ''Jazzo's'', flushing above her head in neon lights.

Once she pushed the door open a wave of heat hit her square in the face, along with the pleasant sound of jazz music. The place had a warm feeling to it, with dark wooden floors and floor-to-ceiling windows that had the worn from time blinds drawn. There were flower designs carved on the crème walls and silver sconces cast their strong light across the room, giving it a neoclassical aura, distorted only by the black and white photos of famous jazz players nailed on the walls and the bar that ran the length of the entire right wall, a wall of bottles filled with any alcoholic beverage imaginable raised right behind it. Inside, a couple occupied the wooden round table on the corner table next to the window, far away from the door, holding hands and mumbling to each other, and a group of four men laughed loudly at the center of the store with an infinite number of empty glasses on their table.

Nadia peeled off her outer layer of clothing as she made her way towards the bar, settling down on one of the stools. Once there, a small glass slid on the dark counter, coming to a stop in front of her. She looked up and saw the blond bartender smiling at her. ''Это своего за казенный счет'', she said and went back to wiping the counter clean.

She took the glass in her hand and stared and the clear liquid inside before gulping down the shot in one sip, letting the vodka burn its way down her throat. Then she took another, and another, and another until she lost count. It would all have helped if she could actually get drunk, but, of course, the serum made sure she stayed sober and alert. She could have stayed home and tried to forget all those past memories. After all, no one forgot their sorrows by drinking alcohol. But no one forgot their sorrows by drinking milk, either.

What could she forget? The endless torture in the Red Room's dungeons? The constants experiments ''for the greater good''? The unbearable loneliness that had rooted itself in her soul? No, that stuff made her remember who she was, who they had made her into. Through her years of imprisonment she had built up her defenses, secured the walls around her soul and made sure that no one slipped past them. She was an assassin, for God's sake! She couldn't let people root themselves in her heart! In one way or another, they would get hurt-

Once again that night, she shook her head. What was she thinking? Why would she be thinking things like that? What lead her to think things like that? It took her a while to realize, rooted to the spot as she was, it was fear that made her think like that. What if, when Natalia came, she wouldn't want to have any contact with her? What if she killed her? And who ever said that Natalia would come? Maybe she would ignore the card. Maybe she had forgotten that her old best friend liked blue butterflies. Maybe she had even forgotten she even existed in her life once. But why did Nadia even care?

_Because she has already taken a special place in your heart._

…

With a smile plastered on her face, Nadia exited the bar and dove into the freezing temperatures of the outside. The vodka had warmed her up and would keep her going for almost till morning. Filling her lungs with the chilly air, she started walking towards the general direction of her small apartment, finally ready to face her bed once again. Halfway through the block she heard the roaring laughter of the four men exiting the bar and she shook her head in disgust. Why do men drink so much when out?

The next thing she heard was mumbling and the sound of footsteps right behind her. She quickened her pace, but the men, even that drunk, quickly reached her again. In an attempt to shake them off she turned in a small alley, only to find it to be a dead end. The only escape was a fire escape at the wall in front of her, but before she could move a dark chuckle made her turn around on her heel and look at her pursuers.

They were all at their late thirties, married, judging by the golden bands on their fingers, and totally wasted. All of them wore thick jackets to block off the cold and all of them had a hungry glint in their eyes, which were fixed on her. She just smirked.

''Привет, красавица. Это на улице холодно, Вы можете присоединиться к нам и повеселиться'', one of them said, coming closer to her.

She shook her head. ''I don't speak Russian, care to translate?'', she said with just a noticeable hint of an accent. Not that they would notice in a state like this.

Another man, shorter than the first, laughed. ''He asked if we could give you a ride''. His own accent was heavy, and the rest of the gang laughed when he was done.

Nadia's smile widened, sick to her stomach. ''Thanks, but I can walk.'' She made a move to walk past them, but the second guy barred her way with his hand.

''But we insist'', he pressed on, now taking a step forward, forcing Nadia to take a step back.

''But I don't want you to.'' Oh, she was enjoying this. Instead of showing it, though, she put on a scared façade, trembling hands and confused stare mixed to make an unbeatable combination.

He smiled. ''Что мы будем делать с ней?'', he called over his shoulder.

''Давайте делать ей сейчас, мы не имеем весь день. Тогда мы оставим'', the first one called, already playing with the buckle on his belt.

''А что с ней?''

''Кого это волнует? Давайте покончим с этим.''

Suddenly the guy closest to Nadia placed a firm hand around her neck and pushed her against the wall, making her wince. ''Relax, babe. You're about to have the night of your life.'' With one shift move he unzipped her parka and, laughing, he started sucking at the tender flesh of her neck.

She couldn't stand it anymore. She kicked off her heels and kneed him hard on his manly areas, making him double over. She then proceeded to take out the two advancing men that hadn't spoken all night by jumping up in the air and, with a Chinese split, kicking them square in the face. After landing she crouched down and swung her left leg around, bringing them both on their backs, where they stayed. The fourth man was a bit bigger than the rest of them, but Nadia had faced far worse. Running forward, she bent over and supported herself on her hands, swinging her legs around her attacker's neck and, with extreme force but careful not to break his neck, pulled him on the ground while she landed on her feet, and with a blow on the head he passed out. Now the last man standing was trying to leave as fast as he could, but Nadia ran to him and punched him in the stomach, finishing him off by taking his head in both of her hands and swinging him to the ground, where he cried out in pain.

Nadia grabbed her gun and kneeled next to him, pressing the tip against his skull. His eyes widened with fear. ''Следующий раз, когда вы пытаетесь изнасиловать девушку, помню, кто остановил вас.'' And with that she brought the butt of the gun on his head and he stopped talking for the rest of the night.

By the time she was done she hadn't even broken a sweat. She couldn't feel the cold of the snow on her bare feet nor the chill of the night reaching her through her open parka. She collected her shoes and placed them on her feet.

Suddenly her phone started vibrating in her pocket. Hiding the hand pistol in her jeans, she answered. ''Hello?''

''_Enjoying out night out, Gunslyakova?_'', the cold voice of the Scarlet Iron Lady reached her ear. Of course, how could she leave her best assassin without a tail in the middle of the night?

''Oh, you have no idea, ma'am'', she replied, lightly chuckling to herself.

''_Good, 'cause you are needed in a mission_'', she said and Nadia's chest dropped. Really, what did she need to do to get a good night's sleep?

''What, you need my… _infiltration skills_?'', she asked. ''I thought you forbade me to use them.''

''_And you won't. It's a hit mission. The rest of the team is on its way._''

''And when do I leave?''

Just then a black mini van pulled up in front of the entrance of the alley. The side door opened and there she was, in a pair of red pants and a blood red top along with red pumps, cell phone close to her ear. Nadia shook her head in disbelief and hung up, walking towards the mini van and getting inside.

Her boss looked outside at the mess the assassin had caused before closing the door and turned to look at her, amusement evident on her face. ''I see you have warmed up, then.'' She threw a pile of clothes to Nadia, along with a pair of combat boots to wear.

Nadia started to take off her clothes, throwing them on a seat next to her. ''They hardly put up a fight.'' Her hand flew up to her neck, where the throbbing indicated the forming of a bruise. ''Yuck, that's gonna leave a mark. So, what is this mission?''

''Simple elimination job. You will be taking down the Moscow headquarters of an American agency. You're head of the team with Belova.''

Nadia bit back a groan that threatened to escape her lips.

''And because I know that you don't particularly like working with Belova, you'll be rewarded when the job is done.'' Nadia stopped pulling up the catsuit, leaving it rest on her hips. She turned to her boss. ''I'll have the agents following you removed. _But_, the trigger will remain.''

Nadia's chest fell at the last bit, but her heart was beating like crazy. No more tailing? Was she serious? ''Really?''

The Scarlet Iron Lady smiled. ''You're my best agent, Nadezhda. You deserve your freedom.''

And what freedom that was. Living in fear that every step she took would be her last one.

Instead of commenting, she put her hands in the holes of the sleeves, zipping up the skin tight leather uniform. ''And why are we taking out the agency? Have they found us?''

''No.'' The van came to a stop and her boss opened the door to get out. ''I want to send a message to Natalia.'' And then she stepped out and closed the door, leaving behind a very shocked Nadia.

…

**S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, Moscow, fifteen minutes later**

As soon as the van came to a halt, Nadia threw open the door and jumped out, riffle at the ready. She was in a normal neighborhood with not many houses around, and a tall five-storey building was towering above her. In the street in front of her a big black jeep concealed the five members of her team, everyone with a riffle just as hers. She ran to them and dropped down on her knees next to Yelena, who looked at her disapprovingly.

''What kind of a team leader shows up after _her whole team_?'', she asked her, venom dripping from her every word.

''One who was informed fifteen minutes before the hit?'', she snapped back, but then took a deep breath, calming herself down a bit. _No more tailing. No more tailing._ ''So, what have we got?''

Yelena shrugged. ''Your normal branch of an American agency. Medium security, cameras at the door, two guards on watch, the occasional agent going from room to room. I'd rank that as a ridiculously easy hit, no need for the Iron Lady to call you up.''

Nadia choose to ignore that as she surveyed the perimeter. The only visible entrance was the front door, where two bulky guys stood almost sleeping. Five seconds mainstream way. Her eyes darted to the second floor, where she could make out a woman standing in front of a printer, talking to someone in the background. Three seconds. Judging by the lateness of the hour, she added at least three more agents in the building, either ready to leave or on night shift. Ten seconds.

''Opinion, Belova?''

''Five minutes maximum. Unless we wipe it out with grenades'', she replied, taking out one small black sphere from her gear bag. Nadia placed a hand above the grenade and shot a death glare towards Yelena.

''She wants it loud. Leave the blowing up for the end'', she said and turned to the other girls for confirmation. All of them nodded and readied their weapons.

Without warning Yelena pulled off the safety lever from the grenade and threw it towards the building. Nadia only had time to cry out once before it reached the entrance and the huge explosion knocked her off her feet.

**Translation (in order of appearance):**

**Bartender: This one's on the house.**

**Guy 1: Hello, beautiful. It's cold outside, you can join us and have some fun.**

**Guy 2: What do we do with her?**

**Guy 1: Let's do her now, we don't have all day. Then we will leave.**

**Guy 2: And what about her?**

**Guy 1: Who cares? Let's get it over with.**

**Nadia: Next time you're trying to rape a girl, remember who stopped you.**


	5. As If We Never Said Goodbye

**And here we are again with this new chapter. And yes, you have to wait no more. This is the chapter were Natasha and Nadia meet again!**

**But not in the way you might think…**

**Special thanks to my beta, Wings of Indigo, for helping with this story! **

* * *

**S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, New York, November 18****th**** 2009**

_The doors swung open and a blinding light made Natasha raise her hand to cover her eyes. She walked through them and the light died down enough for her to see a familiar room. It was enclosed in four iron walls, a half balcony running the length of the walls, training mats spread on the floor. Everything was glowing, like they weren't really there, but Natasha could feel them around her. There was no other way out of it, and that's why she started panicking when the doors closed as soon as she was completely in the room. She ran to them and banged her fists rhythmically on them, desperate to be heard._

''_Наталья__? __Это __ты__?''. The voice made her blood ran cold. She slowly turned around, afraid that she might startle the person behind her, but more because she would drop to the floor if she moved any quicker. And there she was, not a day older than she remembered her, in a shimmering white dress reaching her knees, her straight long brunette hair falling gracefully on her shoulders and reaching her waist. But her eyes… Her light blue eyes, freckled with specks of green, were filled with fear and betrayal._

''_Nadia? Are you really here?'', she asked, her breath caught in her throat. Without realizing it her eyes had filled with tears, but she made no attempt to stop them from falling off._

''_Why did you leave me here? Why did you leave me here with her?! You betrayed me, Natalia!'', Nadia screamed, now tears of her own running down her cheeks. _

_Her words made Natasha's heart stop in her chest. ''I didn't know! I didn't know you were alive! How could I have known?''_

''_You're lying! You knew I was alive! You knew I was stronger than that! And you did nothing to find me! For you I was dead! You forgot me!''_

''_I never did! How could I?'', she tried to defend herself. She couldn't believe her best friend was spitting those words out with so much venom. The way Nadia's tiny frame trembled with anger did nothing to help Natasha's nerves._

''_Я думал, что мы были друзьями.'' __Nadia's voice was barely a whisper, but her words were killing Natasha bit by bit._

_Suddenly a gunshot echoed through the room and Nadia screamed, falling on the training mats. The front of her pure white dress was soon soaked with blood, and it was so real-looking that Natasha wanted to vomit. She ran and knelt down next to Nadia, examining the blood stain._

''_No, no, no, we can fix that, we will fix it, just stay calm…'', Natasha chocked out between her sobs. Watching the small child dying in her arms, her best friend. ''Please don't leave me again.''_

_Nadia's face was filled with tears by now, face distorted from pain. ''Save me, Natalia. Don't leave me here with her, not again…'' But she didn't get through with her sentence as her whole body went limb, blue eyes wide and her empty stare fixed on Natasha's face. She mumbled incoherent words for a bit, cradling her friend's body close to her, her tears falling on the wound on her stomach. Then her head snapped up on the balcony, looking for the shooter who gunned down her best friend._

_Right above the door, the Scarlet Iron Lady stood in a long dark red dress with low cleavage, smoking gun in hand, smiling cruelly at Natasha. ''You failed her again. At least you won't leave her alone. ''And with that she raised the gun again, pointed straight to Natasha's forehead, and pulled the trigger before she could even scream-_

Natasha woke up with a start, screaming. It took her a moment to realize that she was in her room, the only light coming from the clock on the bedside table reading 03:58 in flushing red lights. She took a few deep breaths, calming herself down just about, putting her head in her hands. It was all a dream. It was all just a sick dream.

She hadn't realized how much time had passed until a beeping noise filled the silence. On instinct, she pulled the gun she always hid under the pillow out and shot once at the alarm clock, sending parts of it across the room. She quickly put it down. Man, she was jumpy today, and she wasn't even on the field yet. She just prayed she hadn't drawn too much attention to herself.

Rubbing her temples, she lifted herself from the bed and dragged her still asleep body to the shower. If she wanted to leave early, she had to get ready quickly. Add the fact that Clint would be at least fifteen minutes late to show up. She had a quick shower that greatly helped her clear her mind and then proceeded to get dressed. All of her clothes were packed in her bags, but she had left out a pair of jeans, a black sweater, a pair of combat boots and a long red coat to wear for the trip. When she got dressed, and like the assassin she was, she slipped a knife down her boot and a gun in the back of her jeans. Her luggage had already been transported to the jet that would take her and Clint to Moscow except for a small carry-on she had filled with all the evidence, so, taking a last look at her quarters, she slipped out into the corridors.

In five minutes she had reached the rooftop, where a helicopter waited for them to take them to the airport. It was 5 o' clock in the morning and Clint was nowhere in sight. Instead, Natasha was greeted by agent Phil Coulson, who was standing next to the chopper in one of his many well-pressed suits, a small case in hand.

''Good morning, Coulson'', she greeted him with a smile, walking towards him.

''Good morning, Romanoff. Isn't Barton supposed to be with you?'', he asked.

Natasha chuckled. ''Barton's probably still snoring in bed, I don't count on him appearing anytime soon. So, what do you have for me?''

Coulson repositioned the case in his hands so that Natasha could easily open the lid and stare inside. ''I did a fine job for such a short notice, didn't I?''

She took the two passports in her hands, one for her addressing her as Rebecca Miller and the other for Clint identifying him as John Miller. Natasha groaned. ''We're doing the married couple act again?''

''Only in papers. In the box there are your wedding rings- Oh, don't give me that look, Natasha, it's standard procedures!'', he exclaimed when Natasha shot him a death glare. ''And I took the liberty of planting a tracking device in them.''

The assassin took the small black box in her hands and stared at the two golden rings inside. That would complicate her plans a bit, but she could always leave them at home. ''Is the safe house ready?''

Coulson nodded. ''HQ in Moscow has everything covered at the Russian end.'' She placed the passports and the rings back inside and her handler closed the case, giving it to her. ''Once you touch down you're on your own. Your gear is already at the airport. Good luck.'' He started walking away from Natasha, back towards his office some floors down.

''Hey, Coulson!'', she called at his retreating form and he turned around to look at her. ''Make sure Barton gets his ass off the bed, okay?''

…

Twenty minutes later, Clint Barton ran through the hatch of the roof top to the chopper, towards a very irritated Natasha, who had her hands crossed over her chest.

''Nat, I am so sorry, I forgot to set my alarm clock-''

''What is wrong with you?!'', she cut him off before he could defend himself. ''0500, what wasn't clear when I told you to be ready at 0500?''

''I know, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you, whatever you want!'', he tried to calm her down. He had found himself at the wrong end of her wrath before and he knew it was a really nasty place to be.

Natasha remained silent for a few moments before pointing in the chopper. ''Get your butt in there, Hawkeye, and I'll pretend it never happened.'' Clint nodded and disappeared inside the helicopter. Natasha took one last lingering look at the New York skyline before following her partner.

The flight to the airport was quiet, mostly due to the fact that Clint had crushed on the passengers' seats and had fallen asleep again, snoring lightly. Natasha fought back the urge to slap him awake, for his silence would help her think. She had asked herself many times how her life would have been if Nadia hadn't died. Maybe she wouldn't have killed so many people. Maybe together they would have made their escape. But what plagued her most was what _had_ happened. She had drowned her ledger in red and was now fighting to wipe it clean. She had killed so many people, often forgetting who had died first in order for her to become what she was. But every time she took a life Nadia's face would pop up in her head… Back when she did business on her own she didn't care, but ever since Clint had made her see life from a different point of view guilt haunted her wherever she went. Would it be enough if she saved Nadia from their old masters? Would that wipe out all the red?

Natasha tried to busy herself somehow, one time scrolling through her phone, the other going over her approach on the mission in her mind and more often thinking what the hell she was going to do in the plane. Even when they reached the jet and were seated comfortably inside, Natasha couldn't help feel uneasy.

And that didn't escape Clint's notice, who, by the time they were in the air, was wide awake. '''S something wrong?''

Natasha, who was then looking out of the window, shook her head. ''Nothing. Why?''

''You seem tense'', he observed.

She grabbed the carry-on she had reserved for the evidence she had gathered and opened it, spilling all the papers on the table between them. Clint leaned over to examine them, ignoring the fact that Natasha was trying to avoid the topic. ''You wanted to see the evidence. Here you go.''

Over the next three hours the assassins examined the various cases in front of them. Natasha tried her best to explain to Clint how the Red Room operated, often earning looks of either disgust or respect. They discussed about their approach and how they would best take down the facility.

But they had just one slight problem.

''Where the hell is the facility?'', Clint wondered out loud, throwing his head back. ''We don't know where it is, we don't know how it's guarded, we don't know the number of agents it has, we don't even know if it's positioned in Russia anymore.''

''Nadia will know'', Natasha assured him, tidying up the papers in front of her. ''Once we get in contact with her, she will fill us in.''

Clint crossed one leg over the other and hugged his knee with his hands, fixing his gaze on Natasha. ''Are you sure Nadia will help us?''

Her eyes immediately shot up. ''What are you saying, Clint?''

He cleared his throat. He had to pick his words carefully, unless he wanted a dagger planted in his neck. ''Even if Nadia is willing to cooperate with us, she is still a Red Room agent. Who said that she wouldn't… double-cross us?''

At that point Natasha threw the papers on the table and Clint drew back a bit, startled. ''And who assured her that, by going to Russia, _we_ wouldn't double-cross _her_?''

''Isn't that what we're actually doing? We are going there to bring down her agency and turn her in to S.H.I.E.L.D.'', he explained, moving his hands to make a point.

''We're not double-crossing her, Clint, we're helping her.''

''She may think otherwise when you tell her what you plan on doing'', Clint pointed out.

''You think she didn't know the risks of contacting me here, Clint?'', Natasha finally asked, exasperated.

He was suddenly at a loss of words. ''I-um-''

''By sending me that card she could have easily be setting herself up for a trap. Who assured her that her life wouldn't be at stake? Who told her that I wasn't going there to kill her?''

''But you aren't.'' Natasha let out a frustrated sigh and buried her face in her hands. ''I'm just saying, we ourselves are probably walking into a trap. We don't know on whose side she's playing. She might even be bait for you to go to Russia.''

''I know, Clint!'', Natasha said, face still buried in her hands, putting emphasis on every word separately.

''Then why are you doing this, Tasha?''

She inhaled deeply and run her hands through her long red curls, looking out of the window in order to avoid meeting Clint's intense gaze. ''I just want to know why they did it. They hid her for a reason, and it couldn't have been because she was the strongest. Something happened, Clint, something happened to her. And I'm gonna find out why.''

Suddenly a beeping noise made both of them snap their heads to the television mounted on the wall. Coulson's face appeared on the monitor, rather shaken.

''Hey, Coulson, calling to check on us? Relax, the plane hasn't fallen yet'', Clint greeted him, stretching in his chair.

''This isn't funny, Barton. I'm calling about a serious matter'', Coulson scolded him. ''This mission's been compromised.''

The assassins stared at each other and then back at their handler. ''But no one knew about it. Heck, we haven't even touched down in Moscow yet!'', Natasha exclaimed.

''The HQ in Moscow was hit last night at 0400, Moscow Standard Time. The attackers were highly trained and knew how to do their jobs, judging by the way they killed the seven agents present and then blew up the building in a total of five minutes and were gone before anyone had figured out what was going on. We have footage from the entrance, I'm sending it through now.''

The tablet they had on the table beeped and Clint went over to Natasha's side so that they could both watch the footage. At first they saw the two guards standing at the entrance, both of them almost asleep. Then a bright flash of light made them both raise their riffles, quite confused as to what was happening. Out of nowhere two girls appeared, a blonde and a brunette, carrying riffles of their own, and took down the guards, the blonde by punching one of the guards in the face and tackling him to the ground and the brunette by elbowing the other one in the stomach and landing a high kick on his head. The blonde then shot both of the guards with her riffle and beckoned someone inside, and moments later a group of four girls rushed in the building. The brunette scanned the entrance and, upon lying her eyes on the camera, raised her rifle and shot at it, effectively cutting the video.

''Do you recognize anyone from the group, Romanoff?'', Coulson asked through the monitor.

Natasha briefly looked up at Coulson before turning her gaze back to the tablet and rewinding the video. She looked again at the two attacking girls and took in their fighting style, their postures and attitudes. Her eyes particularly rested on the brunette and she let out a shaky breathe.

Clint immediately understood. ''Give us a few moments, Coulson, we'll get back to you.'' The agent nodded and the screen went black.

''боже мой'', Natasha breathed out, eyes never leaving the brunette's face.

''It's her, isn't it? Which one is it?'', Clint asked.

She looked nothing at all like the small girl in Natasha's dream. But then again, so many years had passed between then and now. This _woman's_ hair didn't get past the middle of her back and her eyes were filled with bitterness and regret. She had given up her tiny frame for a body filled with curves, but the way she moved made her seem so elegant and delicate, like she would break at any minute. And the way she fought… She had developed over the years, her fighting style was more advanced than before. Natasha pointed towards her and Clint nodded.

''She seems… normal to me'', Clint observed and turned his eyes on Natasha. ''You gonna tell Coulson about her?''

''_Them_'', she corrected him. ''I'm gonna tell him about them. I'm gonna tell him that these girls are indeed Red Room agents, which would confirm my suspicions. That way he won't be able to pull the plug on the mission.''

''But he'll send a strike team. These girls took down seven agents and burned down a whole building in five minutes!''

She raised her hands in the air. ''Let's not go too far. Let's call him now and we'll see his reaction.''

After a few moments of heavy silence and intense staring, Clint nodded and picked up the remote, pressing a button to call Coulson. A few seconds later their handler's face appeared on screen. ''Romanoff, report'', he almost ordered.

She took a deep breath. ''I recognize the blonde and the brunette. The others I don't know, they're probably new recruits. But the first two definitely come from the Red Room.''

''So we're under attack'', Coulson concluded, thoughtful.

Natasha thought about it for a moment. ''No, we're not'', she said, earning confused glances from the two men. Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle clicked in place and she could see everything clear. ''I am. The attack was meant for me.''

…

Clint turned the keys in the keyhole and stepped inside the big penthouse. ''Well, at least it's not like the last one.''

Looking around, Natasha took in the brick walls, the wooden counters, the big round window on the other side of the room, the white leather furniture and fluffy rugs on the floor. Off to the left, a dead fireplace was placed inside the wall, a television mounted right above it, both for watching TV series and communicating with the base. An archery target was standing on a wooden tripod a few feet to the left of the fireplace, along with a punching bag. On the right side of the room there was a wooden archway leading to the rest of the rooms. They left their luggage by the door and immediately did a sweep for bugs. After the attack they had to make sure that the safe house was clean.

Clint fell with a thud on the couch, an ice pack on his head. Natasha had no idea where he found it, but she couldn't help smiling at the memory of him slipping and falling on the sidewalk because of the snow covering every inch of it. Back then it was hilarious, but now that they were in the penthouse, it was even more than that. She burst out laughing, involuntarily.

''Okay, you win, I suck'', Clint grumbled from his position on the couch. ''I'm not one for cold weather.''

''You're not one for any weather'', she pointed out jokingly and he poked his tongue out, resting his head on the back of the couch and closing his eyes. Natasha walked to the window and stared outside at the dark streets of Moscow. Even that little view of her home country sent shivers down her spine. ''Home, sweet home.''

''You know you're gonna be targeted the moment they find out you are in Russia, right?'', Clint stated, turning a bit to look at her. She nodded silently. ''Are you afraid?''

Her green eyes drifted towards him and rested on his own blue ones. That simple gesture, plunged in silence, was enough for Clint to understand. Those green, sad eyes were filled with what seemed like fear and anticipation. Even if she was afraid, she would never admit it out loud, and she was waiting for any trick her old masters might throw at her. And she wouldn't stop until they were brought down for good.

Natasha walked away from the window and went to her carry-on, fishing out the small card with the butterfly that had brought them here. It was a little past midnight and the café closed at one o' clock. ''So, it's my first night home. Wanna go out and celebrate?'', she asked, waving the card in the air.

Clint lowered the ice pack from his head and stared at his partner blankly. ''You're kidding, right?''

…

**Маленький ****царь**** Café, Moscow, Russia, 45 minutes later**

''_When we get back to the apartment, you are so dead_'', Clint whispered in the intercom.

''Clint, I'm not gonna stay'', she whispered back, eyes looking up and down the street. ''I'm just gonna check out the place and then you can get a nap. How's your head?''

''_After the second fall while following you? Like Iron Man sat on it._''

Natasha chuckled. ''At least your humor's flourishing. I'll take that as a positive sign.''

''_Hasn't your jet lag kicked in yet?_''

''Let me remind you that I don't get jet lags'', she hissed. ''And it would be easier if you just checked out the perimeter without talking to me all the time. And make sure you don't slip off the roof top while getting comfortable!''

''Roger that'', he called and her com went silent.

She walked down the cobble street and came face-to-face with the small café which, surprisingly, wasn't that far away from the safe house. It was by then a quarter to one, and already the bartender had placed all the chairs up on the tables and was swiping the floors with a wooden broom, whistling a low tune. Upon further inspection, she came to the conclusion that no one else was there and that she would probably have to come back again the next day. Sighing, she headed back the way she had come before. She just had hoped that her old friend was there. The sooner they removed her from the Red Room, the better.

''_Natasha, incoming!_'', Clint all but shouted in the intercom.

Springing to action, Natasha took out her pistol and turned around, aiming towards the forehead of her pursuer, who had done the same thing. But before she could completely register who it was, the person in front of her let out a scream and crumbled on the ground with an arrow sprouting from her waist, white shirt slowly soaking up with blood and blue eyes wide with terror.

''NADIA!''


	6. Truth in Death

**A/N: Hello everybody (Gru style)! I know, I know, I've been horrible to you, not uploading for so long, BUT, exams got in the way, and then I was busy developing and finally uploading my new Doctor Who story, Echoes, so please, **_** please**_**, forgive me, and forgive me for the cliffhanger at the end of this chapter, as well.**

**Special thanks to my beta, Wings of Indigo!**

**Outside ****Маленький****царь**** Café, Moscow, Russia**

Natasha knelt down next to Nadia, who was screaming her head off. She could only see the tail of the arrow poking out of Nadia's waistline and the ever growing blood stain on her shirt. Her old friend was growing steadily paler and she had no idea what to do.

''Nadia, Nadia! Focus on me, come on!'', she whispered. ''It's not that bad, nothing that can't be fixed!''. Her words were drowned by Nadia's screams. ''Be quiet, please!''

Nadia did her best to keep her screams to a minimum, reverting to groaning instead. By now her eyes were watery. ''Don't lie to me, Natalia, it's-really bad. I guess that was the-tail I was going to-warn you about?'', she managed to say between ragged breaths.

Natasha couldn't help but smile, despite her slowly growing rage. ''Oh, you haven't lost your edge, Nadezhda, not one bit.''

It was Nadia's turn to smile. ''And what about you, huh? Took you a while to realize I was behind you.'' She let out another short scream. Any sound she made set Natasha on edge.

Suddenly someone fell on his knees next to Natasha and she whipped her head around to see Clint examining the wound. ''Oh, God, I didn't know it was you-''

''ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!'', Natasha all but screamed in his face. ''WHY DID YOU SHOOT HER?!''

''I thought she was going to attack you! What would you do if you saw someone approaching me with a gun raised towards my head?'', he snapped at her, his own voice slightly raised. They stared at each other for a minute before another scream from Nadia made them both turn to look back at the wound. ''It has surely pierced some vital organs.''

''And what do we do in this case?'', Natasha asked, worried out of her mind.

''We-we don't move the impaled object from her body. That might cause internal bleeding and more damage'', Clint replied, looking back to his first aid training.

''Take it out.''

Natasha and Clint's eyes widened at Nadia's words. ''WHAT?!'', they asked in unison.

She let out another scream. ''Take it out, whatever it is. What did you-shoot me with? Not a bullet, I assume.''

Clint stared at her. ''It was an arrow, and you're lucky I didn't put a special tip on it!''

Her groans turned to a half-hearted laugh. ''An arrow?! You use a bow and arrow!''

''Yeah, got a problem with that?'', he snapped at her.

''Stop, both of you!'', Natasha stepped in then, fed up with their attitude. She turned her attention to Nadia. ''Nadia, if we take it out, you might die right here and now.''

Her old friend groaned in pain. ''If you leave it in I'll die! Take it out, NOW!''

The two assassins kneeling next to her looked at each other. A sort of agreement seemed to pass between them and they turned back to Nadia. Clint carefully positioned his hands underneath her body and lifted her off the ground, arrow tip away from his body. ''The safe house is close by, we'll do it there, not here. There is no way someone hasn't heard you screaming by now. But your eyes will be tied.''

Nadia threw her head back and laughed again, but then her face took up a pained scowl. ''Fine, just get it done!''

Natasha tore the hem of her shirt and wrapped the fabric around Nadia's eyes and they quickly disappeared from the small street, Natasha first to clear the way and Clint close behind, carefully balancing the girl's body in his arms.

''Hey, how do I call you, Robin Hood?'', she asked a short while after.

Clint stared daggers at her and Natasha as the latter tried not to double over from laughing. ''The name's Clint Barton, and no jokes about my weapon of choice.''

Nadia smiled. ''Nadezhda Gunslyakova, pleased to meet you.''

He looked at her, a confused look on his face. ''I just shot you with an arrow and you're _pleased to meet me?_''

''I'm the woman who's asking you to take it out, are we even?''

''Deal.''

A few minutes and a lot of running and groaning later, Natasha threw open the safe house's door and beckoned Clint inside. ''Put her on the table, quick!'' She shoved aside all the trinkets and Clint placed Nadia on it, careful not to further disturb the arrow. Nadia took off the makeshift blindfold.

''Okay, do it now!'', she cried. The burning sensation in her stomach was growing and growing, never a good sign with those things. Clint helped her out of her leather jacket and ripped apart her shirt, leaving her top half covered only by her bra and the blood that came out of her belly in large amounts. Natasha had rushed to the bathroom and was now back with bandages and needles in her hands. Upon laying her eyes on the latter, Nadia shook her head. ''No need to stitch me up, just take the arrow out.''

''Nadia, are you listening to yourself? You have-''

''Yes, I know, now DO IT!''

The two women stared at each other for a long while, Natasha's green searching Nadia's blue eyes, who was looking up at her pleadingly, begging her to take away the pain. Natasha turned her attention back to Clint, whose hands were hovering above Nadia's wound, and nodded.

Clint placed one hand on her belly and the other on the end of the arrow producing from her waist. On instinct, Natasha grabbed Nadia's hand and gripped it tightly, her friend doing the same. Nadia gritted her teeth, preparing herself for the excruciating pain that was to follow.

''Okay, keep still. On the count of three. One, two, three!'' And with that Clint pulled hard on the arrow and it came out of her body, and Nadia screamed once again, louder than ever. Natasha closed her eyes, her friend's scream making her blood freeze and the grip on her hand tightening.

Nadia breathed hard, calming down enough to turn and look at the assassins with a small smile, brow drenched in sweat. ''That went well'', she commented in a regular voice, given the fact that someone had just pulled out an arrow from her waist. Her head rested on the cool wooden surface of the dining table and she closed her eyes, letting them examine the wound, which was pretty bad.

Natasha wiped the blood away from the wound. ''Why did you want us to remove the arrow?'', she asked curiously. When no answer came, she turned to look at Nadia and realized that her chest wasn't rising and falling at all. Her fingers flew to her friend's neck, desperately searching for a pulse, while Clint had already pulled out a knife and had placed it underneath her nostrils, checking for any signs of breathing. Both attempts came out negative.

Natasha's knees buckled from underneath her and she fell on the floor, staring at nowhere in particular. Clint rushed to her side and, not knowing what else to do, wrapped his arms around his partner in a comforting manner and she rested her head on his shoulder, silent tears escaping her eyes.

But before she could even sob, a groan came from the table. ''You two getting cozy down there?''

The two assassins' eyes widened as they lifted themselves off the floor and stared at the previously dead girl lying on their table. Her eyes were half open and her fingers trailed the wound on her stomach. Before their eyes, layers upon layers of skin started forming where her wound previously was, steadily covering it up, reducing it to just a small pink scar which itself was, in a matter of seconds, gone, leaving behind no evidence that it ever existed. Nadia let out a shaky breath, which turned into an amused laugh. ''Thank God it worked! For a moment I wasn't sure'', she whispered, more to herself than to the agents next to her, who were staring at her, shock and confusion written on their faces.

She just gave them an awkward smile. ''I suppose you have a few questions.''

…

Clint came back with three steaming cups of tea and handed one to Natasha, who was sitting on an armchair, and one to Nadia, who was reclining on the sofa, keeping the third for himself. He chose to sit on the rug on the floor. ''So, Nadezhda-''

Nadia immediately grimaced before she could take a sip of her tea. ''Oh, that sounds bad. Nadia, please; I prefer it to my full name.''

Clint cast a sideway glance at Natasha, who gave him a nod, and then turned back to her. ''Okay, _Nadia_'', he stretched her name. ''Tell us, how did you stitch up your belly on your own?''

She took a sip of her tea before replying. ''Call it a little gift from the Academy.''

''What happened back then?'' Both heads turned to Natasha, who was clutching the mug in her hands. ''They told us you died after the administration of the serum, from side effects.''

Nadia chuckled. ''They're clever liars, I'll give them that.'' She repositioned herself on the couch. ''I remember, the first day they pumped me up with the serum, that I felt like my blood was on fire. It first I thought, maybe it was the serum 'working its magic', but then it didn't stop. For a whole night I was convulsing on a bed in the infirmary, not able to move, crying out for help that never came. The next morning I felt really light, like gravity wasn't holding me down. But they held me in for another night to monitor me. No other girl exhibited the same symptoms I did.''

''But it didn't stop, did it? I remember you made regular visits to the infirmary'', Natasha stepped in.

Nadia nodded. ''The pain came back after a few days, usually at night, and they would take me to the labs again. I would cry my eyes out and sleep on a surgical table all night. The nurses were going crazy. They said that, while I was asleep, parts of my body shrank or grew in size and length. My legs, my hands, my hair, everything. During the day it wasn't visible, but at night…

''Finally one night nothing happened. I thought that it had gone away, that the serum had settled. They let me come to the training sessions the next day to see how I was doing. But, that day-''

''Your hair turned red'', Natasha whispered and Nadia stared at her. ''I remember that day. You'd been missing for two days and then you showed up with long red curly hair.'' She picked up a strand of her own long red curly hair and let it fall on her shoulder. ''It was the talk of the Red Room.''

''Once I realized what was happening I ran out of the room. It was natural, I panicked! The instructors, however, caught up with me and dragged me in the labs. I didn't see the academy halls intact again.''

''Intact?'', Clint asked, puzzled.

''Long story'', both Widows replied.

''But what was the matter with you, Nadia?'', Natasha asked her, ''How did your hair turn red?''

''Like this'', she replied, and in the blink of an eye her hair curled up and turned in a fiery shade of red, just like Natasha's. Clint jumped to his feet in an instant, but Natasha kept staring at her friend, eyes wide. ''Relax'', Nadia cast a glance at Clint, ''I won't bite. Although, I _can_ snap your neck in three seconds from where I'm standing.''

''How the hell did you do that?'', Clint whispered. It seemed that the sight had astounded him more than he let on.

''It's my DNA'', Nadia explained, swinging her legs off the couch. ''For some reason unknown even to the doctors in the Red Room, my DNA reacted to the serum differently. It tried to expel it at first, but the formula was too strong to leave my system, so it integrated itself in my genes, made my DNA unstable. Right now my genetic code is in a state of flux. It has the basic template, which is this'', she turned her hair back to the long straight brunette she originally had, ''but other than that it's not stable. It can be triggered to change at any moment I want it to without affecting me. Problem is, it always waits to be triggered, so my body is ready to create new cells to support the transformations.''

''The serum made you a shape shifter'', Natasha finally breathed out.

''With an awesome healing factor'', Nadia added with a smile. ''Everything inside me is intact right now, no harm done by the arrow, which, by the way, if you had left inside, skin would have grown around it and my body would have made it part of my system, which would be really bad.'' She took a sip from her tea again. ''That day with the hair? I was thinking that I would get to see you again.''

Natasha tried hard not to smile at that.

''Well, that was the day everything went downhill'', she went on. ''They found me and imprisoned me in the lower levels to play with their new toy. At first they tried to see my shape-shifting limits. Some simple stuff: they had me change parts of my body, my whole appearance, my age, my gender. Then they had me tested to see if I could perform certain… _functions_ while in the new bodies, both male and female.''

Clint was the first to pick up the full meaning of that. ''They had you have-?'', he started to ask, but was cut off by Nadia's subtle nod.

Natasha covered her mouth with her hand in shock. Even with all the stuff they did to all the girls in the Red Room, that was even more twisted. To have a young shape-shifting girl turn to a man and then make her have sex while in that form was beyond traumatizing. It was _sick_.

Nadia cleared her throat and went on. ''After they were satisfied with the shape-shifting, they started testing my healing factor. They beat me till my skin turned blue, electrocuted me, almost drowned me, cut parts of my skin off to observe how my body healed. One went as far as to cut one of my fingers off to see if it'll grow back.'' Clint winced. ''Then it was the other part'', she continued, turning her attention to Natasha. ''Were there any long periods when girls would disappear from the Academy?''

Natasha took a sip of her tea and thought about it for a bit. ''Actually, yes. About three years after you… died'', she still had trouble speaking the word when describing her, ''five girls disappeared each month, our numbers significantly dropped during that period.''

''That was the scientists in the labs trying to replicate the results'', Nadia explained. ''Turns out, as I was still trained while they ran the experiments, that I also got what the serum was meant to give me in the first place; enhanced senses. I still had my edge in the fighting ring, now even stronger and sharper from the serum, and so they continued training me to be the perfect little spy. From my gene-code they manifested another serum and tried it out on girls that hadn't received the original serum to see if they could make shape-shifters out of them. Needless to say that this time the side effects actually were the reason those girls died.''

Her friend gripped the mug tighter.

''So you can actually change your face'', Clint tried to steer the subject away from Nadia's days in captivity, all the while still trying to wrap his mind around the idea.

''And body and voice and gender'', Nadia added once more, turning to him. ''Can't you believe me? Watch.'' Right in front of his eyes, her hair shrank in her scalp and turned to an even blonde short haircut, her skull expanded and turned more masculine and her face morphed in that of the person who was standing in front of her: Clint. ''See?'', she asked, and her voice had the tone and sound of Clint's.

Barton had to sit back down to prevent himself from fainting. In his years as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, he hadn't seen anything quite like that. His own face was staring right at him from across the coffee table. But, doing a quick inspection, he noticed something else. ''Your body didn't change'', he pointed out.

Nadia's Clint-face fell and her head turned back to normal, retaining the expression from before. ''Yeah, you wouldn't want me to do that in here.''

''Why?'', Natasha asked instantly, feeling that something wasn't right.

Nadia knit her hands together to find a way to explain. ''I became a field agent a while ago, and The Woman thought it would be better if I wasn't permitted to do some things with my powers. So, she forbade me to change my form.''

Clint blinked. ''She _forbade_ you?''

''She thought that I could use my ability to escape'', Nadia explained.

''Yes, but she _forbade_ you'', Clint tried to make himself clear. ''It's not like you can't change.''

Natasha was better at noticing Nadia's distress. ''Nadia?''

She stared at her hands. ''The Scarlet Iron Lady thought it would be better if I had an active reminder, so that I wouldn't use my ability like that, a-a trigger to keep me in check-''

''Nadia, what did she do?'', Natasha asked her then.

A single tear fell from Nadia's eye and she had trouble looking at the both of them. ''Natalia, I-I'm…'' She then took a shaky breath and turned her eyes at the only friend she had ever had, the same pleading expression on her face as before, when she was begging them to take the arrow out of her belly. But Natasha would never have expected her reply.

''I'm loaded with nanoexplosives.''


End file.
